


kamogawa

by lovelyspiral



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-04
Updated: 2016-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-18 05:39:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 9,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5900410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelyspiral/pseuds/lovelyspiral
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After three years, Shizuo and Izaya meet again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. one

[1]

Shizuo wakes to the smell of salt, the whisper of the sea.

In that first perfect moment of awakening, he knows nothing but the white of his ceiling. Craning his head, Shizuo sleepily tries to decipher the numbers on his clock.

_This doesn't look like… Ah. Right._

Existence seeps back into his bones; he knows he is in exile, but even after three years, he can still see Ikebukuro clearly, with its stark skyscrapers and rain-dappled streets. It fills his chest with a strange sort of aching, but he's learned to ignore it. Or maybe it's just so overpowering that it's blended into the background, making him numb.

Gravel crunches under his feet as he makes his way down to the docks. The sun warms his shoulders, yet he still finds himself thinking about 'bukuro. Something must have happened on this day, something that's making the nostalgia stronger than ever. Not one memory floats to mind, but several - a jumbled mess of colors and faces makes him scowl. Still, he tries to fix his distorted face. It's different now, without -

_Izaya_

\- distractions.

Shit. He's snapped the cigarette he'd been smoking. With a sigh, Shizuo fishes out another one.

He lights up the cigarette, briefly closing his eyes. It shouldn't matter now. It's over. But no matter how many times he repeats those words to himself, the mantra only opens up his wounds further. _It hurts,_ he thinks plaintively, almost like a child would.

Somehow, the pain feels distant. Like it happened to someone else, a different Shizuo Heiwajima.

_Maybe in another world, Shizu-chan would've been with me!_

Three cigarettes in the span of two minutes.

The wind is beginning to pick up. Pushing his hair out of his face, he eyes the waves.

_Definitely not the right kind of day for fishing._

He can see the other men grumbling, heading back home. _Back home to families,_ Shizuo thinks gloomily, crushing his cigarette under his foot. His eyes follow the last fisherman to the waves again, when he freezes.

It's a body.

It's a body, and it looks small and still. Shizuo shrugs off his coat, thinking _what if I hurt them what if they're dead what if what if_ but his body, uncontrollable as always, is moving.

The water is freezing, splashing him mercilessly as the wind laughs above. The body is still bobbing ahead, and desperately, he reaches out for it.

What's that sound? It's coughing. It's _alive_ , and it turns to him with shocking, recognizable dark eyes and speaks hoarsely.

"Ah… Shizu… Shizu-chan?"

Shizuo opens his mouth, and gets a faceful of salt water. Small, pruned fingers are gripping into his shoulders. These hands used to hold his, a knife, a gun covered in blood - they're holding his shoulders, and he wants nothing more than to knock them off.

But there's a strange power over him. Izaya's breathing heavily, staring at him wide-eyed, and all he can do is stare back, salt water spilling over his lips. What can he say? _I thought I'd never hear your voice again?_

"It's you, isn't it?" Izaya rasps. "Shizu-chan."

_Don't think, don't think now - did I wish myself into an alternate world? After three years, how is Izaya here? Don't think._

"Fuck," is all he hisses in return. Izaya's fingers are turning slack, and Shizuo slings an arm around the informant's waist. He can feel bones.

"I should leave you," Shizuo says even as he hauls them both back to shore. "Of course a cockroach like you wouldn't die," Shizuo says as he unlocks the door to his house, carrying Izaya - Izaya missing his signature fur coat, now wearing Shizuo's - inside.

"Shizu-chan -"

"Just shut up and let me make you tea, and then get out of here," Shizuo snaps, already having to stop himself from saying _Didn't I tell you to get out of 'bukuro?_ That habit of theirs - it was supposed to have ended years ago.

_Deep breaths, Shizuo._

For once, Izaya doesn't speak. The informant silently heads into the bathroom, where Shizuo hears the shower begin to run.

"Fuck," Shizuo says again, thumps his head against the wall.

_This has got to be a dream. He's not real. Hell, maybe I'm not real - that would be just perfect._

He thumps his head against the wall once more, but doesn't wake up. "This is real," he says loudly, and thumps his head again. "Fuck."

The shower stops running. He averts his eyes until Izaya slinks into the room, dressed in Shizuo's clothes.

"Shizu-chan isn't what he used to be," Izaya says quietly. This, Shizuo thinks, could mean a number of things, but might be a thank-you.

… _Is Izaya different, too?_ Shizuo thinks of a younger Izaya, the laugh lines in his face lacking cruelty. Could Izaya have found some of that kindness?

The kettle shrieks.

"Tea," Shizuo says, and Izaya nods, a quick, sharp movement that causes his wet hair to stick to his forehead. He's pale, almost like the fish Shizuo has in his freezer.

_Izaya's here Izaya's here Izaya's here, right in front of me in my kitchen wearing my clothes and shit, I want to hold him_

(the thought comes almost explosively and he struggles to stop himself from turning red)

He watches Izaya blow on the tea carefully, before demanding, "Did you follow me here?"

_First things first._

"Actually, Shizu-chan, fate must've brought us together - I was tracking someone and, ah, you could say we had a disagreement. The kind where someone throws you into the ocean to die, you know? But it seems I've been led straight to you. Isn't that exciting?"

"Can't swim?" is all Shizuo can manage.

"I did," Izaya smiled faintly.

They sit facing each other in silence, until Izaya says, "So you're isolated even here, huh? Nothing's changed, but it feels like you're different from Ikebukuro's Shizu-chan."

"It's been three years, flea." Shizuo says softly. "Three years without you in my life." _Flea_ rolls off his tongue surprisingly easily. Shizuo bites the inside of his cheek. He has a feeling Izaya's trying to provoke him, but the air between them feels different - still as charged as it used to be, but subtler.

"You sound almost sad," Izaya smiles. It looks wobbly, almost like water is running Izaya's features together. Shizuo shakes his head, trying to get _Izaya Izaya Izaya Izaya_ out of his head. Maybe if he didn't look at him - like not looking at the sun -

"As if. Three years without trouble was good for me." Shizuo grabs a blanket off the couch and drapes it over Izaya's shoulders, eyes averted the whole time. "Stop shaking, flea."

"Side effect of turning into a sea creature," Izaya says, sounding far too amused. Then the flea looks down, hands gripping the tea cup. Shizuo looks at the curve of Izaya's neck, the wet black hair sticking to his neck, and sees the streets of Ikebukuro.

_This is too much._

"You can take the couch," Shizuo says abruptly. "I'm going to my room."

Thankfully, Izaya says nothing. With a sharp exhale, Shizuo leaves him.

He can't handle this today - or any other day.


	2. two

[2]

_I wished him back into my existence. As I thought, feeling so strongly about a person, especially Iza - the flea -, can never be good._

This is the only explanation Shizuo has as he heads down the stairs- how else would the informant be on his couch? How else would his sanctuary be ruined? It always, _always_ came back to Izaya.

To think he could've had a life without Izaya is just another sign of how stupid he is.

But maybe it's his own fault, for wishing Izaya back. Once again, he couldn't control himself.

He hopes, almost, that his living room is empty. But there's a body swaddled in blankets on his couch, a body with moving lips.

_Guess I didn't wish hard enough._

"Why's Shizu-chan here in the dark?" Izaya says quietly, as if he was holding something very fragile. "Were you watching me sleep?"

Shizuo doesn't answer. Instead, he lights up a cigarette, almost automatically, and sits down. Words are struggling to break through but he keeps his mouth clamped on the cigarette, tries to think of the taste of nicotine and not the taste of Izaya.

"Your eyes look orange," Izaya murmurs, before reaching out and palming the cigarette. The informant sits up, crushes it underneath his bare feet, gives a wan smile. "Your whole floor is covered with stains like that, you know."

Izaya puts his head back down, into Shizuo's lap. "Does this bother you, Shizu-chan?"

"I've changed, Izaya." Shizuo says, slowly turning each word over in his mouth. If this had happened three years ago - if someone had said, "You and Izaya will be in the same room and live," he would've laughed before socking the idiot in the gut. But now, he's fighting to keep his hands from running through Izaya's hair. It's dried unevenly, with some parts of Izaya's hair fluffing up while the rest is still damp. Shizuo lights up another cigarette, keeping his hand out of Izaya's reach, but the informant doesn't grab for it again. _It's almost like I've totally forgotten everything we went through; I haven't, but I still want to touch him._

"So I've noticed. Does Shizu-chan destroy other things now? Now that he can't put his hands all over me," Izaya says, tone innocent. Shizuo stares at him, thinking that three years have suddenly rushed up and closed the distance between them, thinking that nothing can ever be enough. As it is, he's wishing Izaya's face would be closer. _Why are you trying to start this again,_ he wants to say, but that would only give the flea more power.

"I fish," Shizuo finally replies. "And my name here is Tsugaru. Not Shizu-chan."

A slow smile spreads across Izaya's face. It's playful, almost like there's a secret just between the two of them. "That's why you dyed your hair, isn't it? Because you're Tsu-chan now!"

"And you," Shizuo says, "are going to be out of this house when I come back." The threat sounds hollow even to his own ears - Izaya knows his new name now, where he lives. Why, why divulge such things to an enemy? He brings his hand up and tugs at his hair; he hadn't dyed it, really, just once to get his natural color back. He'd let his roots take over, then. Frowning, Shizuo remembers the first day of having his hair back. It was almost like looking like an alien. Like he wasn't Shizuo Heiwajima anymore, whose yellow hair shone brightly enough to blind. He was ordinary now, plain and brown, and that - that was good, wasn't it?

Honestly, he'd just accepted that he would trudge through the rest of his days.

"Where's Shizu-chan going?"

"To fish." Shizuo stretches. "To make a living honestly." He steps away from Izaya, though for some reason, he wants to turn back to look at him.

"Don't bring back any bodies," Izaya says lightly. "Or I'll be jealous."

Shizuo's walking away by then, forcing himself not to look - so maybe that's why he messes up, nodding in reply to Izaya's inane request. But maybe in the dark, Izaya didn't see.

Izaya's soft chuckle says otherwise.

It's cold outside but still bright, the wind whipping his hair in front of his eyes. His favorite kind of weather. Heading back down the docks, Shizuo gazes out at the calmed sea. Hours ago, Izaya had been bobbing in the water, swallowing salt water and close to death. The ocean would've done what Shizuo couldn't.

_Does the ocean ever fall in love? It meets so many people all the time. Fuck, I'm thinkin' weird shit._

Shizuo spends a good half an hour just sitting on his boat, clutching a net in his hands. Holding the netting is reminiscent of having his hands around Izaya's neck, and Shizuo slowly practices breathing. The netting still tears, and he stares at it, feeling almost numb, hopeless.

"I've come a long way," he says quietly to himself, because he needs to hear it. "From 'bukuro to Kamogawa, from twenty-five to… almost thirty…"

_Maybe I'm lonelier than I thought. Isn't it bad when your days blur together like this?_

Shizuo finds himself missing Celty. She, of all people, would know what to say, would know about time passing by so painfully but so quickly. Almost thirty. His pain, Shizuo muses, can't even be close to hers.

Shizuo takes the long route back to the house, even indulging in some small talk with the girl at the small bakery. As usual, she offers him samples, and as usual, he politely declines. He lingers outside his own door for a moment, then breathes to steel himself.

Three years without Izaya, three years alone in a quiet place - he can't let it go to waste.

Izaya is still in the house. Somehow the man's acquired a laptop (Shizuo has a feeling his wallet is going to be lighter when he finds it) and is typing away with one hand, scribbling notes with the other.

"I need your lighter later," Izaya says without looking up from the screen. _Need_ was a word Izaya had once claimed to hate, calling it weak. But perhaps to ask with such authority in his voice countered that, or maybe Izaya had changed.

_That thought,_ Shizuo thinks gloomily, _keeps coming back to me. Like I want him to be different. He'll be here till he recovers and that's all._

So he leaves the lighter by Izaya's hand, and goes upstairs, breathing shallowly. He's reading a book when Izaya comes upstairs and sits at the edge of the bed.

"Shizu-chan can read!" Izaya exclaims, pressing his cheek to Shizuo's shoulder. "Why're you reading about birds?"

Shizuo turns a page. He doesn't see the words detailing the habits of a brown sicklebill, but the text messages Izaya used to send to him, almost like they were printed on paper.

As a fisherman, Shizuo's seen the ocean dredge up some pretty strange things. But he never knew his mind was the same: like the tides, memories of Izaya come flowing back as the man sits next to him, memories he'd tried to keep deep underwater.

"I'd rather be a be a bird of prey than a bird of paradise," Izaya quips as he looks at the book's pictures. "Shizu-chan would be a loud bird. With yellow feathers."

"What do you remember of 'bukuro," Shizuo ends up asking abruptly, meaning _What do you remember of us?_

"Everything," Izaya says. "Does Shizu-chan remember anything?"

"Yeah," Shizuo says hesitantly. He wants to tell Izaya that he remembers the cold winter nights where they'd sit on overturned vending machines, when Izaya would playfully wrap his fur coats around Shizuo's shoulders. He wants to tell Izaya he never forgot the feeling of stop signs in his hands, the pure adrenaline that would take them from the streets of Ikebukuro to Shinjuku. He wants to tell Izaya that when the city expelled them, everything suddenly felt like it was just a dream and he couldn't remember if it was all real or not. Couldn't remember where Izaya's lies started and ended. But he can't say any of this, so he tries to search Izaya's face for clues. Nothing - just as expected.

"But you like it here, don't you? You're quiet now, just like Kamogawa." Izaya asks. "Isn't this boring, Shizu-chan? Isn't it that when people get what they yearn for, they realize that it isn't what they wanted after all?"

"Are you talking about yourself, now?" Shizuo shuts his book, turning away. He can feel color rising to his cheeks, and fuck, it's really been three years, three years of feeling nothing until now. "You're just trying to piss me off."

"I think that's just you missing me, Shizu-chan."

"Shut up!"

_They never tell you how to turn your brain off, never tell you how to stop yourself from wishing someone back into existence. He was going to die Izaya was going to die but my body moved -_

He's breathing hard, almost feeling like he'd choke. He can feel his palms growing wet from where his nails have broken skin. Izaya, he knows, can probably smell the blood, and a memory of Izaya bandaging his shoulder makes his anger flare up all the more strongly.

(oh, sweet Shizu-chan)

"An animal can't stay pent up for long," Izaya says, mouth curved in a sly smirk. Shizuo had wondered if Izaya could read minds, once, and he wonders now what Izaya would say if he knew what Shizuo was thinking. Maybe Izaya could make sense of the wreckage that was his thoughts.

"And a flea can't stop running it's irritating mouth. Buzz off somewhere else, Izaya; I don't want you here." Shizuo heads to the door, focused on the pack of cigarettes downstairs. He almost runs, trips down the stairs trying to get to his pack.

"Tsu-chan will let me stay here unless he wants his new town to know all about him," Izaya calls cheerfully. "If that's alright."

"I'll break your neck!" Shizuo shouts back, the ugly words freezing him in place as they leave his mouth. Izaya only laughs, and Shizuo hastily lights a cigarette before heading outside, back into the cold.

_I can't stay there with him, but I can't leave. Something only tells me this guy will end up with me again._

He hears the door open, then close, and there's Izaya down by his shoulder. The informant suddenly looks somber.

"Shizu-chan." Izaya says softly. "Give me a chance, ne?"

Shizuo eyes the area, sees nobody. With a barely suppressed hiss, he pulls Izaya back into the house and slams him against the wall, hand closed around soft, pulsing skin.

"Why the fuck would I, when you landed us in this mess? Why would I, when you've never done anything but take advantage of me?" Shizuo squeezes, hating that he relishes the color Izaya's face is turning, the slight widening of the man's eyes. "I guess you're still the same and always will be, thinkin' you can just waltz back like this. Well, you fuckin' can't. You can live here but don't you dare expect anything from me. I don't want to hear anymore of your stupid comments, just live here quietly and let me have my peaceful life back."

"Ah, Shizu-chan really is like the sea he lives by," Izaya manages. "Calm one moment, wild the next."

"Don't smile at a time like this!" Shizuo releases Izaya, tries to keep Shinra's (god, why Shinra, why now) last words out of his head,

_(I think it's because Izaya really fell for you, Shizuo)_

but he can't.


	3. three

[3]

Somehow, they settle into domesticity.

Somehow, Izaya fits into Shizuo’s routine like a puzzle piece, even though he can still feel the burn of Izaya’s neck against his hand. While Shizuo scribbles notes about how much fish he has to catch and sell, Izaya perches near him at the kitchen counter, pen between his teeth. 

_He never used to keep his pen in his mouth,_ Shizuo notes, and hates that all the little things about Izaya are resurfacing. Suddenly he wants to know: does Izaya still keep one hand on his hip when he brushes his teeth? does he still sing along to the cartoons on TV? does he still make french toast when he can’t sleep? Almost frantically, Shizuo wants to know everything about the other man. 

And always, always that urge to pull Izaya back into his arms.

Izaya catches him looking and drops one eyelid in a slow, lazy wink. Shizuo looks back down at his notes, ears burning, hatred clawing its way up his throat.

_Shizu-chan, give me a chance, ne?_

Shizuo bites his lip, worries about snapping the pen in his hand before realizing he’d put it down. That’d been another thing about Izaya: he’d somehow trained Shizuo to empty his hands, cause less collateral damage. _Fill your hands with mine_ , Izaya would tease. _Shizuo_.

_I want to I want to I want to I want to hear him say Shizuo just one more time, to laugh and look at me close and cross-eyed and then we’d be --_

“Shizu-chan?”

_Shizuo --_

Shizuo has to suck in a breath, remind himself Izaya can’t read minds. “Yeah?”

“Tea?”

“Yeah.”

Izaya’s humming as he puts the kettle on, one hand brushing his bangs behind his ear. Mondays, by some unspoken rule, are their quiet days, when they're adjusting to the new week, but they’re when Shizuo’s mind runs the loudest, the fastest, desperately trying to fill the vacuum between them.

This -- Izaya in the kitchen, making tea -- reminds him of quite a few past mornings, and it fills him with unease. As always, anger circles his stomach like a shark, but Shizuo staunchly reminds himself that these years were for a _reason_ , that he can’t lose control to this shitty flea again.

He tries to think of why he hates Izaya, tries to make it _tangible_ but all he can do is wonder if one day his feelings will boil over like Izaya’s tea (the flea is swearing, and it makes him chuckle a bit). He almost jolts as he realizes “one day” implies that Izaya’ll still be around, that these thoughts are here to stay.

It makes sense, in a way. Izaya's always been there. Izaya’s like a bone that grows through his body: always lurking there under the surface. So why not accept it? Why fight it after all this time?

_Because Izaya's the kind of bone that likes to break skin._

“Shizu-chan?”

“Hm?” Shizuo fights to keep his face neutral. He keeps his eyes on his figures, the little doodles of fish that adorn the paper's corners.

“Protozoans shouldn’t think too hard. It looks unnatural, that expression on your face.”

Half-heartedly, Shizuo mumbles a _shut up, aren’t you into weird shit, anyway?_ and Izaya laughs before coming over, saying, “Move over, you beast,” and sitting on the edge of Shizuo’s chair.

“I can do these notes for you,” Izaya says, tapping the top of Shizuo’s paper. “You’ve made a couple of mistakes here and there.”

“I’ve been runnin’ my business just fine,” Shizuo pulls the paper away from Izaya’s thin fingers, thinking again of bones coming up through his chest. "Way before you came along."

“Ne, Shizu-chan could’ve given me a paper-cut, and then how would I type?”

“How would you ruin less lives?” Shizuo shoots back. “Guess that would’ve made me a fuckin’ hero.”

He doesn’t want to see the kind of expression on Izaya’s face. He doesn’t want Izaya to see his either, doesn’t want him to know that _Shizu-chan, give me a chance_ hasn’t evaporated from his mind for even one moment.

Shizuo can feel the air stretching thin between them. Maybe Izaya wants to suffocate him. Maybe Shizuo wants to suffocate himself and that's why Izaya's back. Twisted wish fulfillment, delivered by the world's worst ex --

It all sounds too real. He could puke, even. But Izaya's staying quiet so Shizuo swallows the words building up. He wouldn’t be able to say them properly, anyway.

They work. Shizuo adds and subtracts fish until somehow he's adding and subtracting memories, trying to find an equilibrium where he and Izaya can be happy. _Because he's always what it comes down to,_ Shizuo thinks bitterly. _And Izaya is never, ever happy with me. Not when I'd run to Shinjuku when he called. Not when I'd go to his shady as fuck meetings. Not now, when I saved his sorry life. Not ever._

 

_Even when so many things changed, that fact never did. But who cares? Who’d want to go through that again? Were we even together?_

Shinra, either too keen or too blind, thought differently, more optimistically than Shizuo. Celty, on the other hand, had commented that she could never understand, or want to understand, a human like Izaya.

Whereas he’d never clearly discussed Izaya with Shinra, he could always tell Celty what was on his mind, no matter how jumbled his thoughts were.

_You're talking about love,_ she had once typed incredulously.

"Yeah. Wait, no. Uh. Maybe?" Shizuo had run a hand through his hair. "Fuck if I know."

_With Izaya?_

A barely perceptible nod.

Her fingers had hovered over her keypad, clearly at a loss.

In the end, she could only shake her head but gently try to comfort him anyway: _Which one of us understands love, Shizuo? I'll support anything you do but I don't want to see you hurt. Especially if it involves that man._

Izaya’s speaking again.

“Huh?” Shizuo says dumbly.

“When you go out tomorrow,” Izaya repeats, as patient as Shizuo’s ever seen him, “take me with you.”

“To the water?”

“Yes, Shizu-chan. The water.” Izaya smiles, and Shizuo startles to find it’s one of Those Smiles. The rare ones, without malice. The ones that made Izaya look almost normal.

_When I went for his throat those years ago, it was that smile I was thinking of._

"Uh. Sure," Shizuo says. "Why?"

Izaya shrugs.

_Izaya dripping with salt and seaweed and eyes redder than ever --_

“What makes you think I won’t drown you?” Shizuo says quietly. “Throw you back where you came from.”

“Because then we’d be back in Ikebukuro, and you know how that would go.” Izaya’s smile twists. “Don’t you, Shizu-chan?”

They hold each other’s gazes before Shizuo grabs his coat and Izaya’s. “Let’s just go now, then.”

“Hm?”

“We can just go now.” Shizuo heads out the door without bothering to look back. He knows Izaya will follow. 

There’s a moment of silence, and then he hears Izaya’s footsteps crunching behind him until the informant comes up by his side.

“The wind is snatching my words,” Izaya murmurs, eyes cutting to Shizuo, who looks straight ahead

The course of true love never did run smooth.

As Shizuo clambers into his boat, Izaya eyes him. “Won’t you give me a hand?”

_Shizu-chan, give me a chance, ne?_

“Can’t do it yourself?” The words are sticking in his throat. But even longer than they’ve been apart, they’ve danced the same fearless routine. Eyebrows furrowed, mouth pursed. Stubborn and unyielding, pretending that there was nothing to hide.

Izaya only raises an eyebrow in reply.

Shizuo holds out his hand.

_This is what he meant, he’s trying, fuck, fuck, fuck maybe he changed --_

Izaya takes his hand and smiles; if the ocean could fall in love with anybody, Shizuo thinks, the ocean would fall in love with Izaya.


	4. four

[4]

Shizuo doesn’t remember how Izaya ends up falling asleep against his shoulder; the informant’s breaths are calm, completely secure -- totally unlike how Shizuo’s been sleeping lately. 

How could he sleep with Izaya downstairs? Shizuo spends his nights waiting to hear the floorboards creak, the light switch snap on. But all he ever hears is the soft clicking of a keyboard, and occasional coughing. 

When Izaya sleeps, he sleeps like the dead -- something Shizuo feels an informant can’t afford. But Izaya, in all of his smug superiority, is completely at peace at his side. For a moment, Shizuo entertains the idea that no time has passed at all, that he found Izaya too late, bloated and drowned. 

Shizuo’s skin suddenly feels clammy, and he prods at Izaya. “Oi. Hey, Izaya.” 

_ I didn’t wish for it so wake up, wake up if you --  _

He has to stop. Has to stop thinking, doing  --  _ so the only thing left to do would be to  _ die.

“Oi. Izaya!”

Izaya mumbles something in his sleep and his hand grips Shizuo’s sleeve. Something collapses beneath Shizuo’s ribs; he knows, now, the true power of wishes. It’s always said to be careful what you wish for: if you spend one night down by the docks, alone, tired, and wishing for love -- the universe will send someone. But when the only person in the world brave (or idiotic) enough to love you is Izaya Orihara -- 

And when the only person brave enough (or idiotic) to love Izaya Orihara is you -- 

Shizuo shakes his head, trying to physically disperse the questions in his head. The questions were the worst part about it all, almost worse than actually being around Izaya. 

He tries to think about the ocean’s tranquil days. The days when the sun paints soft orange hues on the sea, and thoughts of Ikebukuro warm his chest instead of crushing it.  _ This is where I’m meant to be, _ he thinks.  _ Alone. But I’ve accepted that a long, long time ago.  _

_ So why is he here with me? If I’m supposed to be alone?  _

Somehow, he feels weary, even with his heart thudding in his chest. 

_ There’s no way I can stop these thoughts, so fuck it. Just this once.  _

Stretching out, he sleeps with Izaya cradled against him. Hazily, he remembers days when he’d worry about breaking the informant against him, then thinks no more.  

When he wakes up, Izaya has slipped out from under his arm. He can hear banging around in the kitchen though, and heads downstairs. 

“Is that the little fish you caught?” Shizuo says, amused. 

“Ah? No. And he wasn’t little,” Izaya gives a sharp exhale. Something’s got him frazzled, but Shizuo knows better than to ask. He’s got a pretty good idea of what it is, anyway. Instead, he takes a slice of meat and chews. 

Izaya keeps banging around and Shizuo keeps chewing. Finally, Izaya speaks. 

“Shizu-chan’s become boring.”

“And you haven’t changed at all, flea.” Shizuo can can feel the tiredness seep into his body again, keeps his eyes down. Izaya is battle ready, gaze sharp and fingers tapping on a kitchen knife. 

_ You’re playing the same game as always. Scaring yourself and breaking me.  _

“But you,” Izaya says. "Don't you feel fake? You're still afraid, aren't you? Acting like you’re so cool and calm now when the Shizu-chan I know --” 

“That guy?” Shizuo says. “That guy wasn’t good enough for you, Izaya; why do you want him back?” He stands, steps closer to Izaya, doesn’t miss how the informant’s hand tightens around the knife. “So you can fuck around? We’re too goddamn old for this!” 

"Shizu-chan doesn't understand a thing about me. But you, Shizu-chan! Explain it to me -- how this town’s made you predictable.” 

Shizuo chuckles. “Doesn’t this make me one of your humans now? Shouldn’t that make you happy? Isn’t this what you wanted -- a  _ chance _ ?”

He steps closer, and the informant steps back, white-knuckled, deer-eyed, before his face falls back into a mask: 

“Is Shizu-chan saying he wants to be mine?” 

Seeing that familiar sly twist of Izaya’s lips -- it all comes back. 

_ Kill kill kill kill kill KILL  _

Quick -- something -- his hands find the countertop behind him and he holds on to it, tries to anchor himself. 

_ Think of Kasuka think of the sea think of the day Izaya called you ‘love’ think of tides withdrawing because he’s nothing, you are nothing, this is nothing  _

And then the rush fades, just as quickly as it comes. The countertop’s bent under his hands. 

_ Compared to a city, that’s nothing.  _

Shizuo takes one shaky breath, and looks into Izaya’s eyes. 

“Izaya,” Shizuo says. “Imagine this. You’re alone your whole life -- yeah, I know you don’t have to imagine that. But this part: you hate it, you’ve got nothing you love. And then you meet this guy and he fucks it up even more. In some crazy ass twist of fate, you fall for him. And it’s good, and it’s okay, until he falls for you too. It scares him, and he takes the light out of the stars again. Everything you both built, he destroys it. You know that, though. And you know I tore the city apart trying to fuckin’ kill you because ‘zaya, that’s just how much I love you.” 

“Love?” Izaya says quietly. The deer eyes are back, almost glassy. “Shizu-chan, you fool.” 

“Yeah,” Shizuo says. “Though I feel so goddamn empty, I still love you. I think I always will. It brought you here, you know? Nobody else would’ve pulled you out of the water.” 

Izaya’s lips twitch. “An honor.”

“A mistake,” Shizuo says. “Because you’re here, and you asked me for a chance, and fuck you, ‘zaya, for losing it the moment I gave it you. Did you think I’d forget? Acting all skittery because I put my fuckin’ arm around you? Are you trying to repeat what happened three years ago?” 

“I didn’t mean,” Izaya says, “what you think I did.” 

“That could apply to just about anything,” Shizuo says dryly. 

“How presumptuous, Shizu-chan,” Izaya says. “I manage to get along with you and you think I’m trying to be your sweetheart? It was just --” 

“A game?” Shizuo interrupts. “It doesn’t matter what you thought it was. What you just said now, it’s the same shit. You’re still a fucking coward, trying to look into other people’s hearts because you’re too scared to look into your own. And yeah, Izaya, I’m still afraid. But I learned something from loving you.”

Izaya looks like he wishes that Shizuo’s words would cease. A voice in Shizuo’s head is whispering  _ stop stop you know how he is  _ but Izaya, Izaya, Izaya, Izaya has fallen so far already. 

“I can control myself,” Shizuo says. “And I’m done with your shit, Izaya, though you weren’t half-bad. No matter how ready you are to lie, I know you tried. But nothing I do is gonna make you happy. Not until you figure it out.” 

The day Izaya’s mother had passed, Izaya left town without a word. Shizuo had smelt him out, found him red-eyed in another city’s inn. Shizuo can recall the intensity between them as they faced each other, before Izaya had wordlessly let him in. That had been the only day Izaya had cried in front of Shizuo, and the beginning of their end. 

“I get it,” Shizuo says into the silence. “There’s a kind of life you want to live. A kind of person you want to be. I’ve changed, Izaya, but I can’t be sorry about that. I can’t give you as many chances as I used to.”

He heads back upstairs, knowing that once again, he’ll be alone.  


_ Just the way it’s meant to be.  _


	5. five

[5]

For Shizuo, life unexpectedly goes back to normal.

It’s almost like he’s back in Ikebukuro, stitches popping from every  _ I-za-ya _ bursting past his lips. He feels more ‘Shizuo’ than he’s ever felt, perhaps because Izaya’s words are lingering in his skin again. Perhaps because life was always about shouldering through the pain -- but he learned. With and without Izaya, he learned. 

Though it feels like the informant was always there -- even before that day in middle school. 

Each morning, Shizuo gets out bed, heads out to the ocean, and tries not to look for tangled black hair bobbing among the waves. 

_ You survived once without him. You can do it again.  _

And yet, when the night breeze hits, he wonders if it’s cold where Izaya is. If he has more than syllables to keep him warm. 

Trying not to think about Izaya -- trying not to think about the ocean bringing coarse dark hair between his fingers -- trying not to think about how that body had sat so comfortably in his home, placed his pens between its teeth -- trying not to think about Ikebukuro -- it’s like trying to ignore that anger bubbles in his veins, smooth and slow. 

Nothing - not the birds, the sound of gentle waters, the laughter of the town’s children -- holds the same music as Izaya’s name. Shizuo resigns himself to the sand, sea, and nicotine. 

_ I can’t wish for him, not again. But I can accept it.  _

It’s about a month after when a girl named Hana stops by. Shizuo stops by her bakery from time to time; at his doorstep, she’s rolling a small box of sweets between her palms. Her nails flash red. 

The wind sings  _ I-za-ya.  _

“Would you like to accompany me to the festival tomorrow?” She says strongly, thrusting the box of sweets at him. She’s a fierce girl, Shizuo thinks, with callouses on her palm and always, always a dusting of flour on her clothes. 

He looks at her dark, curling hair and almost says _ I’ve followed you everywhere, flea _ before he nods, slowly. 

Something twists in his stomach. It doesn’t feel like acceptance, doesn’t feel like moving on, but it’s  _ something. _

It’s that same something that takes him down to the water that night, where he feels ‘Tsugaru’ slip further and further away from him. 

_ What did you feel when you were out here? You were thinking of me, weren’tcha, and then what, I appeared? Is that why you tried to come back? Are you gonna to come back again? _

A part of him, the part Izaya slashed his way into, whispers  _ yes.  _ Izaya’s always been around; even when Shizuo thought it was over, it wasn’t. 

_ So definitely, you’ll be back. There’s no way you’d leave me like this.  _

Shizuo settles down in the water, not minding the cold immediately seeping into his pants. The ebb and flow of the tide is calming, and strangely, makes him feel grounded. It makes him feel like Kasuka’s with him. Or Celty, even. She’d like the beaches here. 

And then there’s the thought of Izaya, still in his head even now. More than just a month later -- it’s been  _ years.  _ Years that simultaneously seemed to drag and fly even without Izaya. 

The day Izaya first kissed him comes to mind. Well -- Shizuo supposes there were two ‘first’ kisses. It’d been June -- July? June -- and they’d been eighteen and caught in the rain. The scrawny flea was growing into himself, cheekbones pushing against pale skin and mouth growing sharper. Izaya was getting stronger, running faster and longer and always taunting Shizuo to keep up.

“Just go,” Shizuo’d said, annoyed, a popsicle shoved in the left side of his mouth. “I was waiting here first.” 

“Eehh, Shizu-chan owns this convenience store? I can’t wait under the roof? Are you trying to make me catch a cold? Shizu-chan’s getting surprisingly devious!” Izaya’d chirped, thin, thin fingers running through his damp hair. Shizuo’s eyes had followed them, and even now, Shizuo can remember feeling a rush of how  _ stupid  _ the guy across from him was. 

“Do you ever shut up?!”

“I’ll go,” Izaya’d said, then, with a soft smile and two steps too close. Plucking Shizuo’s popsicle out of his mouth, Izaya had kissed him briefly, lightly, barely even a brush of their lips. “Strawberry’s such a boring flavor, Shizu-chan. Don’t slip.” 

‘Unpredictably’ as Izaya would’ve said, Shizuo didn’t chase after him, but stood frozen as Izaya ran off with his popsicle. He ended up buying another one -- lemon flavored this time -- before shaking his head, sending rain drops and thoughts of the kiss flying. 

The second ‘first’ didn’t come until years later, when Shizuo’d trapped Izaya against a fence, when all the words had spilled out. 

“I don’t want to fight anymore.”

“Shizu-chan’s bored?”

“That’s the wrong word,” Shizuo’d said, frustratedly recalling the taste of strawberry. “Look, flea -- just take responsibility, okay?!”

He’d ended up chipping one of Izaya’s teeth, splitting the skin of Izaya’s lip. Shizuo remembers holding his breath, and Izaya’d  _ laughed _ , just laughed as those thin, thin fingers came up to cup his face. 

“Your new game seems interesting enough, Shizu-chan. I’ll play if you keep me entertained.” 

_ Come to think of it, he played along for a fuckin’ long time -- for him, anyway,  _ Shizuo reflects. He’s tempted to fall asleep in the sand, but the thought of becoming a bloated corpse drifting through the sea isn’t entertaining enough. 

_ Maybe Zaya’d find me.  _

When morning comes, he blearily remembers his promise to Hana and manages not to think about Izaya until she’s at his door. Her red nails are adjusting a white flower in her hair. 

_ Shi-zu-chan, take me to the carnival!  _

Hana’s hand finds its way into his as soon as they step off the train. 

“Is this okay?” she asks, and he can only dumbly say  _ yeah _ as he remembers slender, sharp fingers winding through his, tripping up his arms, over his lips, into his hair --

Hana. He’s with Hana, but the wind sings another name. 

_ I’m trying,  _ he thinks, _ to move on, and you just won’t fucking shut up.  _

She’s looking at him, oddly. She can’t be a mind-reader, right? Shizuo swallows, asks her what she wants to do first. They walk around, playing the games and admiring the vendors’ creations. 

“Tsugaru-san,” Hana begins as they walk away from a woman’s etchings. “Are you having fun?” 

“Yeah, are you?” He gives her hand a squeeze, lighter than he would’ve held Izaya, watches her face break into a gentle glow. 

And then he sees a thin man with dark hair, and he can’t feel anything. He can’t even hear her next words, because  _ Izaya’s _ in his head again.

_ You’ve never had to be careful with me, Shizuo.  _

God. God, he can’t be thinking about this right now. But it’s happening, Izaya’s crooning  _ Shizuo,  _ tangled in their sheets -- the fucking sheets they’d bought together -- 

He smiles, tightly. The man can’t be Izaya -- the guy’s gone. Izaya would’ve run farther than this. Hana’s eyeing him, her smile uncertain but steadily there, and she squeezes his hand again. 

He pauses, then squeezes back. 

_ I’m losing it, even when there’s a pretty girl right here. _

  
_ Are you happy, Izaya? _


	6. six

Izaya was five when he’d first tasted numbness; he’d rinsed his mouth, vowed to evolve. He’d escape. He couldn’t spell  _ evolve _ then, couldn’t grapple with monsters, couldn’t comprehend the  _ something  _ growing inside of him. 

When Izaya is ten, he names the  _ something _ curiosity. When he’s twelve, he renames it love. They coexist, love and Izaya, and together, they watch the crowds. 

When he dodges the first of many of Shizuo’s punches, the numbness soaks back onto his tongue. He almost misses it in the exhilaration of their fight, but it sticks around, happens again and again. 

It can’t be love. Not with Shizuo. Izaya doesn’t know what to name it, and it becomes  _ something  _ again. It’s still unnamed when Shizuo pulls him in for a kiss, drips down his throat as Shizuo’s hands grapple for his. 

Izaya’s rinsed it again and again throughout the years. It’s become a part of him, as much of an extension as his knives or phones, but it's never been  _ ignorable _ . Now, just a month shy of leaving Shizuo after three years without him, Izaya tastes it again, as bitter as saltwater. He downs tea, coffee, mouthwash, anything to shake it, anything to forget how it makes him think of  _ Shizuo.  _

But Shizuo -- hilariously, Shizuo is  _ everywhere _ . Izaya could laugh until he cried. It’s like Izaya can’t turn off his own brain -- riding the trains reminds him of sleeping on Shizuo’s shoulder as the sun set behind them, when Shizuo’d grip his waist to make sure he didn’t fall out of the seat; he can hear Shizuo humming as he works; he can feel Shizuo’s breath against his neck when nobody’s there; ootoro, even, becomes What Shizuo Used To Bring Home. This time, Izaya doesn’t have work to distract him. He tries -- he half-heartedly tracks down the man who threw him into the ocean, but the information doesn’t bring him any satisfaction. Listlessly, he thinks of Shizuo’s arms around him instead, hauling him through choppy waters, and can’t even laugh. 

Shizuo always brings unanswerable questions:  _ how did you find me again? why did I follow you? _

_ like wounded skin, how did we stitch together?  _

Three years ago, they'd been close. Even now, Izaya supposes the feeling lingers _ :  _ Shizuo had gone beyond simply saving him, had allowed him back into his home. Shizuo had put his arm around him -- had held him close to his chest and slept, had let a fire rekindle in his eyes when he looked at Izaya. 

If Izaya was going to examine at the facts, it had scared both of them. Shizuo had been brusque, had refused to resort to violence; oddly enough, Izaya’s a little impressed. Shizu-chan is becoming the man he’d always wanted to be.  _ Because of me, trying to do exactly the opposite,  _ Izaya muses, and tips his head back, 

(tinted sunglasses flashing in the light, like the blue, blue sky)

and laughs. 

_ Shizu-chan, you hypocrite. Aren't we both trying to protect ourselves? Surely even a protozoan like you can understand.  _

It was frustrating playing a game where the rules kept changing, where Izaya could feel something closing up his throat.

(i want you and i don't know how to climb back into your arms)

It almost makes him wish he’d drowned, and  _ that _ ’ _ s _ worse than the whole affair itself. 

_ There was a me before Shizuo. But that me -- didn’t have any colors. Just the feeling of more, more, more --  _

(until it was too much) 

No matter -- new memories were to be made. There were endless humans to observe, predictable, adorable humans. There’s a festival in Chiba; he goes. 

(tries not to think about Shizu-chan and Ferris wheels and midnight kisses) 

The festival is lively, sparking with colors and laughter. Izaya smiles as he watches two boys run excitedly through the paths between stalls, their mothers struggling to keep up. One of the women is juggling her purse and a baby, calling out to her son but losing her breath. The boys just laugh, hands linked as they duck and weave through the crowd. 

_ Is that what we looked like? Could’ve looked like?  _

To be a child again -- to go back -- he wouldn’t, despite everything. That had been boring -- to have to rely on ‘adults.’ Today, he was Izaya Orihara, live and standing on his two feet. To live with no regrets -- that was the way of his daily life.

Everything he’s done, he’s done carefully. Living with a glass heart,  _ really _ living, is difficult, but Izaya’s made it work well enough. 

(alive and standing with a chest that's caving in)

He’s making small talk with a girl selling glass charm bracelets, when  _ something  _ settles in his mouth. And he knows. 

(the hair on his neck stands up and the air feels electric and his hands sweat and he thinks  _ why? _ ) 

There’s only man who can walk the way Shizuo does. Someone who unknowingly walks with the power to make the world bend -- that’s Shizuo, shoulders almost curling into himself as if he wants to shrink away -- and Izaya knows he does -- but there’s still that steady strength present. 

(the safest place in the world -- the arms of Ikebukuro’s most dangerous man) 

Izaya’s mouth dips downwards before he can stop himself.

Shizuo, who nobody but Izaya needed to know about, is in Chiba, with a woman, with their fingers laced together. 

Her nails are red, and her hair is dark, curled -- Izaya can’t help touching his own hair, his own lips as he slips after them. The girl is laughing, and Izaya feels something flare up in his chest when Shizuo laughs as well, and he sees a gentle squeeze pass between their hands. 

The taste on his tongue is thick and he thinks about walking over, prying their hands apart, can see himself doing so -- but he stays frozen in place. He feels like he's treading water, fighting towards something immeasurable. 

_ Is this changing, Shizu-chan?  _

_ Or is this just being a ‘coward?’ _

The girl he’s talking to presses a charm in his hand, asks if he’d like this one? Izaya uncurls his fingers, gazes down at the little bear charm before pushing it back to her with a smile. It feels pasted on, but he doesn’t stop smiling even as he strides away, feels the painful tug of his lips reaching for his ears. 

On the train, the wind quietly whistles as the trees blur into each other. Izaya's not sure how he makes it to the train station, honestly, but this time, he lets himself think about Shizuo's arm around his waist freely, hides his face in his hands with a bitter smile. 

_ If I drown again, will Shizu chan save me?  _

_ Ah... Probably not.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi everyone! i'm so sorry about the delayed updates but college classes... they're wild, man. you can find more writing -- shorter snippets -- on my tumblr in the meantime, but don't worry, kamogawa isn't abandoned! thank you for reading, your comments make my day <3


	7. seven

[7]

Tuesday morning brings Izaya Orihara to his door. 

Shizuo's never been victim to any of his own projectiles, but seeing Izaya brings the image of a flying bright red vending machine to mind. That's what this feels like -- like all the air's blowing out of his body, but something's still crackling in his blood. It makes him wonder how the sun kept turning without Izaya, how his days kept blending together, like he he had all those years ago.

Why isn’t he used to this by now? Why does he still feel like he’s choking?

Before Shizuo can say anything, before his mind and mouth can catch up to the rush flooding through his body, before he can draw a  _ breath,  _ Izaya speaks. 

"I was tracking," Izaya says, "the man who tried to kill me." 

Even now, Shizuo can't completely tell when Izaya's lying. He knows when Izaya's provoking: the informant's eyelids slip low and his smirk is lazy. Sometimes he’ll casually scratch at his neck, and then a blade’ll slip out of his sleeve, fit neatly into his hand. Something Shizuo hated --  _ envied  _ \-- about Izaya was how carefree he could make himself look. The Izaya before him looks almost sullen, with that serious turn of his mouth, but his eyes are wide. Shizuo can see where the sun turns his eyelashes brown. 

“Yeah?” Shizuo manages, eyes on Izaya’s feet. 

_ Don't look at his face.  _

Shizuo remembers water lapping around Izaya’s ankles, remembers pulling Izaya out of the sea -- 

_ Don’t look at his lips.  _

At that, Izaya gives a small, mischievous smile. "Yeah." 

Shizuo fixes his gaze on Izaya's face. He looks a little softer than Shizuo remembers, like he’s been borne and battered by saltwater, tumbling all the way

(home)

back to Kamogawa. 

"Knocked 'im off or what?" Shizuo’s throat feels dry. He tries clearing it, and at that, Izaya laughs a bit. It's not a laugh Shizuo's ever heard before, but a word swims up in his memory:  _ shy.  _

Whatever it is, it's gone in an instant. White teeth flashing, Izaya says, "Won't you let me in, Shizu-chan? Blocking the door like that."

Animals, Shizuo recalls Shinra saying, show their teeth when they’re scared. 

_ Maybe that’s why we always smiled when we ran through the streets. When we were together -- maybe we were never happy --  _

"Shizu-chan," Izaya says softly. 

_ Give me a chance _ echoes in his ears. 

“I’m trying to control myself here,” Shizuo says finally. “So can’t you show  _ one shred of human decency  _ and stay gone if you’re gonna leave?” 

Brown eyelashes flutter. “Please, puppy, please?” 

A hand on his wrist. Another expression Shizuo doesn’t know. Another expression he might want to learn. His heartbeat roars so, so loud in his ears that he can’t think, that he steps aside, lets the door swing wide open. The tea kettle whistles. Izaya closes the door carefully and follows.

“Tea?”

Izaya nods. Shizuo hasn’t seen Izaya act this carefully in years. 

(hesitant hands on bare skin for the first time)

Izaya slides into a seat at the counter, and he looks so at fucking home Shizuo might break, but then Izaya starts talking and, desperate, Shizuo latches onto the words, because Izaya’s just like a broken teapot right now, letting everything spill before he shatters completely. 

“When I was drowning,” Izaya says slowly, “I wanted Shizu-chan to save me. Just that thought made me want to die, but then it actually happened -- you, I mean. Not dying,” Izaya trails off, and Shizuo hasn’t ever known Izaya to be so unsure. 

“You said the past never leaves you,” Shizuo says. “No matter how hard you run. So what are you doing holding on like this one minute,” he fumbles, “and then -- you’re not?” 

At that, Izaya’s smile unsticks, widens, and he laughs. “I could ask you the same. You let me in.” 

“So are you just talking to hear your own voice?” Shizuo says dryly, ready to deck Izaya into years ago before Izaya pushes on, words softening again, “I've always lived how I wanted to, so I wouldn't accumulate any regrets. Shizu-chan, I want you."

“Do you want to stay,” Shizuo says, feeling his skin starting to crack and his breath starting to hitch. “This time. Is that what this means?” 

“I want to stay,” Izaya says, and Shizuo hates himself for  _ believing  _ because he still doesn’t know how to detect Izaya’s lies, hates himself for crawling back into this spider’s web, but everything in his mind quiets when he pulls Izaya into his arms. With Izaya, he can’t think. 

“You want to stay?” Shizuo repeats. “God, why am I asking, I should fuckin’ kick you out, but -- you want to stay?”

(it’s got to be a dream my whole life with you is a dream)

“Yeah,” Izaya mumbles. “So take care of me.”

Shizuo must’ve run at him, because Izaya’s got that old sly smile on his face and he leaps into Shizuo’s open arms, and they collapse against the floor laughing. They spend the rest of the day sprawled together, Izaya slotted in his arms so securely like he’s always been there, and Izaya’s fingers are running through his hair. 

“You know, Shizu-chan, none of those gangs ever asked why I sent them after you,” Izaya says. “It was always an immediate agreement, because they didn’t have to question themselves. It was like that for me too; when you’d ask me why, I knew it was out of my own twisted feelings. It was just that kind of thing.”

“Be quiet for once,” Shizuo says, but he thinks he understands. “Stupid flea. Izaya.”

"Shizu-chan.”

They kiss soft and slow, mouths fitting together as if they’d never been apart. Shizuo’s hands easily find their way up Izaya’s back; Izaya tugs on Shizuo’s hair, grinning into his mouth.

“When I wake up,” Shizuo says, “I need to know if you’ll be here, Izaya, because I don’t know if I have any more chances left.” 

“I’ll be here.” Izaya says quietly, pressing his face into Shizuo’s arm. 

"Hey, we can figure it out together,” Shizuo says, pressing his lips to Izaya’s head. “I dunno how to do this either, Izaya, but love doesn’t mean I’ll forget you’re a flea or that you sleep with a knife. It won’t stop me from being a monster. But it made a coward brave enough to come home, and that’s something, right? Don’t let this be something you worry about." 

"It makes a beast oddly gentle," Izaya murmurs, but he looks pleased 

(to be home)

and rests his forehead against Shizuo’s. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out by the rocks, the wind weaves through Izaya’s hair. It pushes back against his forehead, sticks to his lips.
> 
> Footsteps crunch in the sand behind him. Izaya turns with a grin, poking out his tongue. “Hey, Shizu-chan, I think I can taste salt. It’s almost like drowning again. Aw, don’t make that face, you’re supposed to laugh. You really can’t feel restless looking at the ocean.”
> 
> With an incredulous chuckle, Shizuo stands beside him, cupping cold hands around his cigarette. It glows orange, a tiny sun by his mouth.
> 
> “I am, though.” Izaya continues, eyes sliding back to the whispering sea.
> 
> “What do you mean?”
> 
> “Drowning,” Izaya smiles. Shizuo does laugh then, and pull him in as close as possible.
> 
> “Shut up, flea.”


	8. note

Thank you for everyone who followed and supported this story! It started out as just some threadbare ideas and some snippets and then I tried actually writing it, which I'm not very good at (multi-chapters, or anything over 3k is a struggle, oops) and I see a lot of things I'd like to fix about this story looking back. I hope it was enjoyable all the same! I just wanted to apologize for how long it took to update as well, school exams got really, really stressful. :( I hope the ending fits well with the rest of the story as it's been some time since I wrote for Kamogawa and Shizaya. 


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